Lessons In Life
by Kimmy.Tosh
Summary: An epic moral dilemma.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer:

Some of the characters depicted below are components of the Thunderbirds Universe, the rights to which are currently held by Carlton. No financial consideration is received in the publishing of this work. Any characters not identifiable with the Thunderbirds Universe are my creation and remain my property.

LESSONS IN LIFE

An epic moral dilemma

PROLOGUE

Jeff Tracy stood stock still in a room full of bustling movement.

Excitement hung in the air but it was an excitement that he was unwilling to allow himself to get lost in.

Not yet.

Not until he'd seen his eldest son, safely home, with his own sleep-deprived and worried eyes.

Only then he could allow himself the ecstasy that was radiating from the three sons by his side, his mother, and just about every other family in the large but stifling room.

It was twenty nine weeks to the day since he'd received the initial phone call. Scott had requested a private meeting with him to be arranged as soon as possible. As soon as he'd ended the call, Jeff had known that there could only ever be one reason for his son wanting to meet him in person, alone, when he should've been flying fighter planes in Nevada. His suspicions were confirmed when Scott had arrived in New York two days later, a sombre expression dominating his features and clutching the all important letter.

There had only been one question on Jeff's mind as he bit his top lip. With the agitation growing inside him, he tried to keep his voice steady but only managed a strained tone, "Where?"

He remembered Scott's reaction as if it had been just yesterday, to the point where he could almost see the scene playing out in front of him. Scott had looked to the floor, his grip increasing a little on the thick, embossed envelope in his hand. It was a good few moments before he looked his father in the eye again. "Allufah," Scott had swallowed.

Jeff had given him a grim nod, trying to show no outward indication that his heart had just dropped passed his shoes. In all honesty, he doubted he'd ever truly accepted the possibility that his assumption about Scott's last minute visit was correct. He'd fooled himself into thinking that there would be some other explanation for Scott's sudden desire to see him. It wasn't until Scott uttered that one word, that it really hit Jeff that he'd been right all along.

It really was happening.

His son was going to war.

His worst nightmare was about to come true and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. After all, he'd supported Scott's decision to join the Air Force, hell, he'd even encouraged it. It had made him so proud to see his eldest son in that same uniform that he, himself, had worn all those years ago. But now, as his hands began to feel sweaty and his legs felt suddenly not-so-solid, he had to wonder if he'd made one almighty mistake in endorsing Scott's career decision. He'd never seen active service in all the time he was in the Air Force and maybe he'd been looking through rose tinted glasses, he thought. All of a sudden, he began to remember the stories. Stories of combat he'd heard round the Officers' Mess. The kind of stories that you always hoped your children, no matter how old they were, would never have the misfortune to hear, let alone witness first hand.

Suddenly, in his mind he was back twenty five years to a cramped hospital room. He was perched on the side of the bed with one arm draped around Lucille, the other hand extended to the tiny bundle in her arms, his little finger encompassed by an even smaller hand. Something had happened in that moment, something had ignited inside him. That flame seemed to have burned forever, growing in intensity as Scott grew and weathering the storms of teenage life.

It wasn't unique to Scott, it'd happened with each of his boys, but it was something that never died and something Jeff could never begin to explain. And it was that flame that he felt now, as he realised that this visit could potentially be good-bye, could potentially be the last time he'd ever see his son alive again.

In Jeff's mind, everything he'd learned over the years, and he'd learned a lot, was telling him that Scott was a man now, that he had his own life to lead. In his heart of hearts though, Jeff was reminded that Scott was still his son. He always would be. And that's why it took every ounce of self control for Jeff not to scream at him right there and then, not to go. Not because he thought Scott wouldn't cope or that he wouldn't thrive in that kind of situation, but because it went against every instinct he had as a father to just stand back and let his son walk into danger.

"When?" Jeff had asked, looking down to where he was unconsciously wringing his hands together. He made an effort to draw the limbs apart and stuffed the sweaty appendages into his pockets.

"We leave on the 23rd, I have to be back on base in four days though," Scott had said in that matter of fact tone that he'd inherited. Jeff tried to approach the subject from a different angle; as an entrepreneur. He could see how Scott wanted the opportunity to lead men in active combat, how it would be proof of his good judgement under pressure and also, how far it would go towards furthering his career. Even though Jeff could understand Scott's desire to hasten through the ranks and see this as an opportunity, the father in him prospered over the businessman. Jeff wasn't really surprised that the ploy didn't work.

There was anxiety in Scott's every movement, his every expression. Jeff couldn't blame his son for being apprehensive. The prospect of being sent to a Civil-War-infested, lawless state that produced enough daily atrocities to fill the front pages of every newspaper across the globe was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. In a way, Scott's obvious anxiety only fuelled the fire of his own.

At that thought Jeff had been unable to stop himself looking down at the newspaper he'd been reading prior to Scott's arrival. He glanced at the headline; 'Six Tortured and Killed As Air Force Helijet Shot Down in Allufah', and had to look away, shutting his eyes tightly.

Swallowing back his own worries and hoping that his concern wasn't too obvious, he reached down to pick up Scott's holdall.

"I'll get it," Scott had pushed his hand away. "I can't stay long, I'm staying with Alan and Virgil on Wednesday, then I'm going to Atlantic City to see Gordon and I'm hoping to re-route in to Kansas on my way back to fit Grandma in."

Jeff had kept at his side as they walked towards the car, he thoroughly understood Scott's desire to fit in a little bit of time with each member of the family. Scott was anticipating every eventuality should the worst happen whilst he was away. In a way, Jeff was proud of him for that, for accepting the dangers. He'd noticed, however, that John hadn't been included in Scott's plans for the next few days. "Does John know?"

Scott shook his head and then looked saddened, "Not yet, I wanted to tell you before I told the kids." Jeff understood and found himself nodding again and focusing his vision on the ground as they walked. His heart started thudding inside his chest and echoing around his head. Although, he kept at Scott's side as they walked, inside he was working on autopilot, still letting the news sink in. Fleeting thoughts hit him one after another, whisking him from one subject to the next without time to think things through; How would he tell his mother the news? Would this experience change Scott beyond recognition? Had Scott made a will? Was this the last time he'd see his son? How would the family cope if they did lose him? Could they survive? More importantly - could he?

"I'm a bit disappointed that I won't get to see John before I go," Scott had admitted, breaking Jeff's haphazard thought process.

"Well, the Moon's a long way away, Son," Jeff had replied. He was distracted by his own wistful thinking.

It had even crossed his mind that maybe he could pull a few strings, see if he could get someone at the Air Force to change their mind, somehow. He had contacts, after all. In that moment, he would've done anything to prevent Scott seeing and experiencing what the newspapers were reporting. But he'd wisely kept his mouth shut, realising that his concern as a father was taking over his rational mind. He had to let Scott live his own life and stop being so selfish, he'd chided himself.

Scott found himself watching just how anxious and taut his father appeared as he opened the car. "I'll be careful, Dad," he'd said, no doubt trying to reassure his father's obvious unease.

The words had taken Jeff by surprise. Not so much the words, but the tone by which they were communicated. There was no anxiety in Scott's voice, nor was there any hint of worry on his features. Instead, his eyes sparkled with something akin to excitement. It was in that moment that Jeff realised he'd misunderstood; Scott's earlier unease had very little with going to Allufah, as Jeff had assumed, and a lot to do with breaking the news to his family.

This theory was reinforced as Scott continued to explain with that same excitement and exhilaration in his tone.

"I understand the dangers," he paused "and I know there's a chance I might not be coming back," he explained in a low voice once they'd got in the car. "But at the end of the day, this is part of the job; it's what I signed up for. And I couldn't ask for a better team to take with me." The enthusiasm in his voice seemed to grow as the journey home continued.

Scott's confidence was contagious and it had reassured Jeff to see his son so positive, despite the fact that he had to wonder if there was an element of ignorance or naivety to Scott's fervour. Jeff knew how difficult it was to maintain that level of positive attitude in those kinds of situations. It had obviously showed all over his face because Scott repeated the earlier pledge.

"I'll be careful, Dad, it'll be fine." He'd paused. "I'll be back, I promise."

Jeff's hand had halted half way to the ignition at those words and he'd turned to stare at Scott slowly, his eyes filled with sorrow and grief.

"Don't say that, Son," he'd swallowed and turned away so Scott couldn't see his face. A face that, against his better judgement, was revealing a whole lot more than he'd desired it to. "Don't make promises you know you can't keep."

"But Dad…"

"Y'know, a friend of mine once said those exact same words to me," Jeff had spoken over him, garnering Scott's attention in an instant. His soft tone was uncharacteristic as he started the engine and then continued what he was saying. "He kept his promise, alright. He came back." Jeff paused. "In a box."

Thoughts of their previous conversation made Jeff glance impatiently at the big double doors. What was taking so long, he wondered. The Air Force had claimed his son for over six months, hadn't they had him long enough? The only contact he'd had with Scott prior to the mandatory debriefing was a message left on his answer phone over twenty four hours ago to say that they'd arrived back in the country safely. Not even a conversation. Just a message.

But over the last six months, it had been Jeff's worst nightmare that the simple words conveyed in that message would never come.

Every time the phone rang, every time someone arrived unexpectedly to see him, it took him back to that initial conversation with Scott at the airport. The words and actions would run through his head, at lightening speed, so frequently that nowadays the whole thing came without even a second thought. And now, as Jeff stood watching the small double doors that led into the great hall he still couldn't yet feel the relief that all that anxiety, that deep seated worry and sickness was over. He couldn't quite allow himself that respite. Not yet.

At his side, Gordon and Alan were talking animatedly, doing very little to hide their enthusiasm for Scott's safe return. Virgil was slightly more refrained, he twiddled his thumbs apprehensively and Jeff wondered if perhaps he felt that same as he did. This inability to believe Scott was home until they'd seen him walk through those double doors with their own eyes.

He wondered if his second eldest son had received the same phone call he had.

Jeff had received only a handful of phone calls since Scott's departure to Allufah. The first one had been a lively conversation about how he was settling in and how the boys were doing. Scott had been relaxed and confident, jokingly suggesting they send him a survival package with some decent coffee in it.

But it was the last conversation that stood out a lot more in Jeff's mind.

It had been less than ten days ago and Scott had appeared on the vidphone with a cut across his forehead and black bags under his eyes. When questioned on his appearance Scott had insisted that the cut was nothing and that he'd not wanted to worry his father by calling earlier. But it wasn't just his physical appearance that had sparked Jeff's deeper concern; the lively, energetic Scott that he'd spoken to months ago had been inexplicably replaced by a quiet and subdued replica.

Scott had done his best to appear happy and jovial but his eyes told a different story. Late at night in his New York penthouse, Jeff remembered only too well how he'd closed the video down more than a little relieved in the knowledge that his eldest son was due to return home in a week and a half. Fear for Scott's life had turned into fear for Scott's soul. Maybe that was why he was so unwilling to accept Scott was safely home. He needed to be sure that the damage that his son had escaped on the outside hadn't manifested itself on the inside instead. Why was being a decent father to these boys so hard?

Jeff was a military man, he knew how it worked; he'd seen men go away and never come back. That was bad enough. But in a way what was worse were the ones that came back broken; shattered shells of their former selves, hardly even recognisable.

And what terrified Jeff Tracy the most, as he stood in that hall waiting to clap eyes on Scott for the first time in over six months, was that the man who walked back through those double doors would no longer be his treasured, eldest son, but instead the pieces of a broken soldier.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

As the big wooden double doors opened, a stream of Air Force blue steadily poured into the room. People rushed forward to greet their loved ones, tears flowed and squeals of delight filled the room. Jeff stood up higher to see over the crowds, noticing Virgil repeat the movement at his side. Everyone seemed to push forward in order to inch even closer to the incoming service-men and women. Other family reunions were ignored or passed fleeting glances of jealousy as people hunted for their own returning loved ones in the mass of the crowd.

"There he is!" Alan suddenly exclaimed, pushing past groups of happy people in annoyance as they blocked his way. "Scott!" he shouted, trying to be heard above the din. "Scott! Over here! Scott!" he waved his arm in the air, hoping to get his eldest brother's attention.

Working through a gap in the crowd, suddenly his way was clear and he ran full pelt across to where Scott was still looking around the room.

"Scott!"

Scott turned in time to feel the full impact of Alan's weight as he threw himself into Scott's embrace, wrapping his arms around his big brother's neck and holding on tight. Grunting at the force of Alan's hold and the shudder of pain that ran through him as his little brother squeezed every tired, aching muscle he possessed, Scott dropped the holdall he was carrying and returned the embrace with as much enthusiasm.

"Hey, Kid," he found himself whispering into Alan's blond hair. "How're you doing?"

"I'm good. I'm so glad you're home," Alan replied, "I've got so much to tell you!" He extracted himself from Scott's larger frame.

Seeing his younger brother's beaming smile, Scott couldn't help but smile back, "Yeah? I'm glad to be home," he grinned. "How's school going?"

Alan screwed his face up and shrugged, "Okay, I guess." He quickly scanned the area for his family, who weren't far behind him. "But the racing's better, I'm going to take the title this year."

Scott raised an eyebrow at his confidence.

"I'm going to get a new car but don't say anything," Alan continued by way of explanation. In a low warning voice and apparently so excited that he was hoping from one foot to another, he went on, "I'll tell you all about it later, when Dad's not around."

Scott wasn't sure he liked the idea of that but it was such a typically Alan comment that he had to laugh.

"Oh, Scott, sweetheart," Grandma bustled forward, wrapping her arms around Scott's neck. She seemed so pleased to see him that Scott was slightly taken aback when she leant back from his embrace and said, "You look absolutely terrible," in a cheerless tone. "You've lost weight, young man, and you look exhausted!"

Scott just smiled, "It's been a long flight, Grandma, and what with the debrief and everything; I'm tired that's all."

"Hmm...." she didn't seem convinced but neither did she have chance to comment as Gordon stepped forward.

"You see these Air Force boys just haven't got the same stamina as us, Grandma, I guess it's only to be expected what with them being the inferior service." Gordon grinned as took his turn, giving Scott a warm hug.

"Remember where you are, Gordon," Jeff said in a low tone, but Gordon already has his head buried in Scott's shoulder and gave no indication that he'd heard his father.

Gordon's grin widened as he held Scott even tighter, "It's good to see you, Scott," he said seriously, breathing a sigh of relief. "Real good."

Scott replied with a "Thank you," as Gordon released himself and smiled his acknowledgement. Diversion was, after all, something he'd had plenty of practice at over the years. "It's good to see you too."

"Son," Jeff took his turn, embracing Scott. "I'm so glad you're home safe," he sighed, holding his eldest son and now allowing that relief to wash over him. And it came by the bucket load. Jeff found their embrace over before he'd had the chance to truly convince himself of Scott's return, but nevertheless took a step back in order for Virgil to step forward.

Virgil hesitated. He'd waited over six months for this moment and half of him wanted to jump in with both feet but he'd been watching the proceedings carefully, an intense frown dominating his features. Scott watched him, feeling like a bug under the microscope.

"Hey," Virgil said softly as he wrapped his arms around Scott. As probably the strongest of all his brothers, Virgil tightened his embrace until Scott couldn't hold back a small gasp. "I've missed you so much," he confessed, trying to ignore the way Scott continued to tense against him.

"I've missed you too, Virg," Scott replied; relieved when Virgil just hugged him close. He'd forgotten how much he needed his family and he held on tightly, even when Virgil began to release his hold causing the embrace to linger. A few seconds wasn't enough for Scott, he needed longer to draw the required strength from his family.

Finally, they parted and Virgil looked at his eldest brother with a strange mix of concern and delight. For a moment Scott wondered if Virgil was going to say something but then the moment was gone. Scott considered whether he'd been rumbled but pushed the thought aside when eventually Virgil's expression broke into a large grin, lighting up his eyes with joy that Scott was home. Scott felt a wave of relief hit him and reminded himself sternly to stop being so paranoid and defensive; Virgil couldn't know. Not just from looking. This was normality returning. That was all.

"Wow," he said softly, looking from one member of his family to the next, admiring their identical expressions of delight. "I wasn't expecting a welcome home party."

"You didn't think we'd just let you come home to no-one, did you?" Gordon asked, scoffing at his oldest brother's illogical assumption. "It gets better; we're going out for supper to J..."

"Gordon!" Grandma tutted as the rest of the family shook their heads and murmured disgruntled sounds. "That was supposed to be a surprise!"

"Yeah, dumbass, even I knew that," Alan grinned.

Scott opened his mouth to reprimand his youngest brother but another voice beat him to it.

"Alan, cut it out," Virgil's frown returned, this time deeper but Scott was pleased to see it was directed at Alan. Even if he was a trifle surprised how easily the reprimand came from his closest, and usually most tolerant, brother.

Alan mumbled an apology as Gordon mirrored the gesture to the rest of his family, "Sorry, but nobody told me it was a surprise!" he tried to excuse himself.

"Never mind," Jeff attempted to keep the peace. It never ceased to amaze him how easily his two youngest sons slipped into this role despite their growing maturity when on their own. "Let's head out of here, it's stuffy" he pulled at his collar, and slipped an arm around Scott's shoulders, needing the contact for a few more minutes as he ushered the group towards the door.

Their collective attempt to move was halted by a call from somewhere behind them, "Jeff Tracy!"

Alan and Gordon both groaned their dismay as the whole family turned and a distinct figure materialised from the milling crowd. "You weren't trying to sneak off without saying hello were you?"

Jeff looked at the man approaching them. He wore a pressed Air Force uniform with more metal on it than the entire contents of Grandma's jewellery box and had ageing features, not dissimilar to Jeff's own. Suddenly it clicked as Jeff stepped forward towards the other man and offered his hand, "Well, I'll be..." he smiled, "Max Mackay!" he explained, a grin forming. "How are you Mac?"

Scott's enthusiasm instantly waned as he nodded a trite, "Sir," and then moved away towards his brothers.

Mac dipped his head, more out of habit than any form of interest, and Scott made an effort to keep a self-preservatory ear on the conversation as he turned to Alan, "So, what's all this about a new car?" he tried to keep conversation light, not wanting to be asked the question he was dreading. 'So, Scott, what was it really like out there?' Just the thought made his stomach roll like a giant cement mixer.

Alan's eye widened and he began to shake his head but it was too late; Virgil's head swivelled instantly to join the conversation, "There is no new car, " he said in a tone that didn't invite discussion.

"Oh," Scott looked between Virgil and Alan, who were now glaring at each other, and then turned to Gordon for an explanation.

Gordon attempted to explain the muted but obviously very heated conversation that was happening right in front of them. "Alan wants a new car to race. He thinks he's being left behind on the track because his car's old and slow," Scott's head swung back and forth as if he was watching a tennis match. Gordon's explanation continued, "Virgil says he needs more experience on the track before he should upgrade and that he shouldn't try to jump ahead of himself. And, whilst Virgil's sticking to that theory, there's no way that Dad's going to fork out for a new car."

"How much?" Scott asked, partly out of interest, partly because he was revelling in the enjoyment of being back and able to watch the normality, if there was such a thing, of family life unfold before his very eyes.

"Oh," Gordon shrugged. "It's a bargain..." he paused, meeting Scott's expectant expression, "at only eight hundred and forty five thousand dollars."

Scott nodded before the figure had a chance to sink in and then looked again, "How much?!" he exclaimed.

"Yep, I know," Gordon nodded. "I can kind of see where he's coming from though, he's got the talent and he's eager to make an impression ..." he shrugged for a second time. "... but then again, that's a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a car that, in all likelihood according to Virgil, Alan will probably kill himself in."

Scott took those words on board, hiding a wince at the unusual bluntness of the comment. "Well, Virgil's the one who has the most to do with Alan's racing. He's the one that sees him out on the track the most and I guess he's in the best position to make that call." Scott paused in thought. "Can't they compromise? Get a new car that's not going to cost so much?"

"Alan, compromise?" Gordon's eyes widened and he laughed. "Gee, you've been away too long, Scott."

Scott shook his head and laughed too, "What about you? How's work?"

Gordon groaned and ran a hand over his eyes, "Crap." He responded. "All this UN Referendum stuff about joint forces against Civil War is killing us." He held out a hand, gesturing to Scott, "You know what it's like. We're stretched to breaking point, busting our asses trying to cover our own border because the powers that be keep insisting we send more units out to the war. It's hell."

"Management's not all it's cracked up to be, huh?" Scott empathised knowingly, as he swung back on his heels and placed his hands in his pockets.

"Tell me about it," Gordon sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head once more. "I've got half the man power to cover almost three times the work. I mean, you'd think some pen-pushing jerk sat behind a desk somewhere would realise that that's not going to work, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Scott replied with feeling. "But it could be worse."

"Remind me how?" Gordon raised a comical eyebrow. "I think my men are plotting a mutiny and I'm damn well tempted to join them!"

"You could've been shipped out to Allufah," Scott said as Gordon's light-hearted joke fell on deaf ears, replaced by a very sombre, very serious tone.

For a moment Gordon could only survey his eldest brother and attempt to decide how to take that comment. Should he laugh it off as if it was meaningless? Or, should he empathise with his brother in all seriousness? It wasn't often Gordon didn't know how to react, especially around his brothers and he began to feel awkward. As Scott lapsed into deep thought, Gordon opened his mouth to speak but he was rescued from his uncertainties when Grandma approached.

"You boys aren't talking shop are you?" she asked, perceptive as always. "Because you know, you're not at work now."

Gordon offered her an innocent smile and bent the truth ever-so-slightly, "No, Grandma, actually we were discussing politics."

She screwed her face up in distaste. "Well, make yourself useful, will you? And break that up." She gestured to where Jeff was deep in conversation. "At this rate we'll be here all afternoon! And they say women are bad."

Scott smiled, doubting that either his father or the ultra masculine 'Mac' would appreciate being compared to women. Thankfully Virgil and Alan had returned to where they were standing before. Apparently their discussion was now complete and judging by the expression on Alan's face, Scott felt safe in assuming that Virgil had more than made his point.

"Are we nearly done here?" Alan moaned.

"Yeah," Scott tried to suppress a grin. "We've just got to rescue father." He indicated in the direction where their father stood but when Scott's eyes fell upon 'Mac', who was laughing in an inappropriate and thunderously loud voice, he couldn't stop the end of his nose crumpling in irritation. It was a minor slip and he corrected it quickly and efficiently.

As the brothers made a collective effort to move towards their father, Scott bent down stiffly to pick up his holdall only to be waved off by Gordon who was only too glad to help carry his brother's bag. Virgil watched the interaction with a frown of concern.

"Ah, boys!" Jeff greeted as they all approached. "Alan, we were just talking about you. I've been telling Mac here about your racing."

Mac stepped forward, offering Alan his hand, "Your father tells me you're top of your game. Congratulations, son."

"Thank you, Sir," Alan nodded, taking the man's hand and returning the gusto he shook with.

"This is Virgil and Gordon," Jeff introduced as they stepped forward retrospectively and followed Alan's lead.

"Scott, you didn't tell me that Mac was going out there with you," Jeff frowned at his eldest son, clearly surprised at this slip. "Mac and I flew together for a long time when I was stationed in Kansas," Jeff explained to Alan and Gordon. "Virgil was just a baby back then."

"Didn't I, Father?" Scott's voice remained neutral as he carried on the conversation politely. "Sorry, I guess it must've slipped my mind. There was so much going on before we left and it all happened so quickly."

Gordon and Alan looked at each other and then turned to Virgil, who was surreptitiously watching their oldest brother; the two of them shrugged at each other apparently none the wiser about the tension that Scott was clearly radiating.

"Well, you're damned lucky you've got such an experienced commander," Jeff went on. "What this man doesn't know about flying isn't worth knowing." He laughed as Mac also laughed, revelling in the compliment.

"I hope you've been listening to him, Scott," he joked. Scott's subtle flinch at the words went unnoticed by the other brothers as they made a joint effort to escape.

"Father," Gordon began, stepping forward with a sense of control that he'd picked up since taking his command post with WASP. "Grandma's getting tired, I think she'd rather we made tracks."

Jeff looked around the hall, noting how the numbers had dwindled and wondering where all the people had gone. "Of course," he nodded. "Well, I'm sorry to cut it so short, Mac, but we'd better head off. It's been good talking to you," he held his hand out a second time. "Any time you're in New York just drop by. You've got my card, keep in touch."

"Yeah, you too, Jeff," Mac smiled. "We'll have to meet up some time, go for a steak or a beer, or something and do some reminiscing about the good old days."

Scott's heart dropped as he saw his father's eyes spark with the seeds of a suggestion. "Say, we've got a table booked tonight at Joey's, you're more than welcome to join us if you'd like." The expression on Scott's face and the sudden rigidity in the way he stood spoke volumes to his brothers. With a sense of loyalty Virgil stepped forward closely flanked by Alan, both more than ready to make some kind of excuse.

"Oh, no, Jeff, I couldn't," Mac replied, graciously declining the invitation. "I promised Pamela I'd spend some time with her, I've been away long enough. But maybe some other time, huh?"

Scott visibly relaxed, becoming shorter by at least three inches, whilst the other brothers passed thankful but curious, confused expressions between themselves.

"I'd like that," Jeff replied. "Bye, Mac, take care!" he waved as Mac said his good byes and departed. "Right, now where's your grandmother?" Jeff led the way across the hall, his sons lagging behind.

"What was all that about?" Alan asked, his tone hushed as they followed their father.

"What?" Scott attempted to play dumb but Gordon was having none of it.

"That!" he exclaimed, hooking a thumb over this shoulder. "If looks could kill Dad's buddy would be dead by now!"

"You've got to admit, Scott," Alan chimed in, "you weren't exactly enthusiastic about him joining us for dinner."

"Yeah, the look on your face could've curdled cream," Gordon grinned.

"Well, would you want your CO coming to your 'welcome home' supper?" Scott retorted with perhaps a little more bite then he'd intended.

Gordon just shrugged.

"Good point but that's why I was sensible," he replied grinning, "I chose a service were the Tracy family reputation didn't precede me."

Scott scoffed and shook his head, "Yeah, well, lucky you," he replied in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

Virgil sensed there was more to all this than met the eye but didn't comment. Instead, he was already planning a viable way to get Scott on his own.

In a family full of people who were overjoyed at Scott's safe return, Virgil knew well that it wasn't going to be an easy task.


End file.
